#Quote
More Quotes by Vladimir Nabokov
Literature, real literature, must not be gulped down like some potion which may be good for the heart or good for the brain—the brain, that stomach of the soul. Literature must be taken and broken to bits, pulled apart, squashed—then its lovely reek will be smelt in the hollow of the palm, it will be munched and rolled upon the tongue with relish; then, and only then, its rare flavor will be appreciated at its true worth and the broken and crushed parts will again come together in your mind and disclose the beauty of a unity to which you have contributed something of your own blood.
Perhaps, somewhere, some day, at a less miserable time, we may see each other again.
Nostalgia in reverse, the longing for yet another strange land, grew especially strong in spring.
We live not only in a world of thoughts, but also in a world of things. Words without experience are meaningless.
Life is a message scribbled in the dark.
Our imagination flies -- we are its shadow on the earth.
Mind you, sometimes the angels smoke, hiding it with their sleeves, and when the archangel comes, they throw the cigarettes away: that’s when you get shooting stars.
...in my dreams the world would come alive, becoming so captivatingly majestic, free and ethereal, that afterwards it would be oppressive to breathe the dust of this painted life.
For I do not exist: there exist but the thousands of mirrors that reflect me. With every acquaintance I make, the population of phantoms resembling me increases. Somewhere they live, somewhere they multiply. I alone do not exist.
For I do not exist: there exist but the thousands of mirrors that reflect me.
